Hi love,
Today is the third time I’ve rewritten this. I first began on November 4th, 2025. It’s early morning in Malé, and I can hear gökotta — the sound of birds greeting dawn. Each time I hear them, whether in the quiet of morning or the hush of night, it’s you I remember. The sound of birds feels like a part of our connection. Last night, like every other night, I was desvelado. I sat in my favorite spot on the balcony, gazing at the moon. Have you seen it tonight? A few days ago, it was the Super Beaver Moon. The moon always reminds me of you — ineffable, bright, stunning, and pulchritudinous. Whenever I miss you, I look up at the sky, searching for my loyal companion. She’s always there — waiting for me to whisper my ache of longing to my Layla.
There have been many celestial wonders this year — the Perseid Meteor Shower, the Sturgeon Moon, the Black Moon, the Blood Supermoon, the Full Flower Moon, the Smiley Face alignment, and even the near explosion of Betelgeuse. For two months, we witnessed a grand alignment of planets, which later became seven when Mercury joined the lineup. Scientists say the moon is slowly drifting away from Earth at about 3.8 cm each year. Because of that, our days are gradually getting longer. In about 200 million years, one day on Earth might last 25 hours. Interestingly, on July 22nd, Earth spun faster than ever — a day shorter than 24 hours by 1.34 milliseconds. Scientists predict that by 2029, we might delete a leap second from our clocks.
sejauh mana pun pandangan kulayangkan
rambutmu, ombak bergulung waktu
malam pandangammu, samudera
tengah hari nafasmu, angin mistral
kata orang, tiada kelajuan melebih cahaya
itu pembohongan
waktu bertatapan jantung kita lebih kencang!
“kau sama seperti bulan
jika langit indah kerana bulan
hidupku indah keranamu.”
apakah pula bezaku? — tanyamu
“melihat bulan aku teringat padamu
melihatmu, aku lupa pada bulan.”
(Lutfi Ishak)
It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I’ve read it countless times. I wish I could read this poem to you, but I know I can’t. I want to love you quietly — in my own space — through my busiest days and loneliest nights. Nizar Qabbani once wrote, “Life doesn’t stop after losing someone, but it goes without them differently.” It does. The rhythm shifts. The mornings are slower. The nights are longer. I thought I had learned to live with that difference — until last year. Mal de amores — the sickness of love — still lingers. It weighs heavier now. Perhaps because I finally understand that healing isn’t about forgetting; it’s about learning to live with memory. In the middle of most nights, when I can’t sleep, I still replay you. Neruda was right, “Love is so short, forgetting is so long.”
I once felt forelsket — that euphoria of falling in love with you; loving passionately, fiercely. Once a man truly loves, it’s forever. You live permanently in his heart. I’m still learning to live without you. Hemingway asked, “Why, darling, I don't live at all when I'm not with you?” Do you know the answer? It’s because I still remember how it feels to have you. Sadly, in this world, we can never replace those we love. What is lost remains lost. We can only love while we still have them. It isn’t the first love that hurts — it’s watching the one you love fall for someone else. I watched someone go from loving me to acting as if I had never existed. It hurts when your favourite person finds a new favourite. That pain cuts deeply. It bleeds without blood.
A Malaysian writer once said, “The tragedy of a long life is not age itself, but the burden of remembering — those we have loved, lost, and will lose. And beauty exists because it ends.” Some say the heart remembers longer than the mind allows. Healing, they say, doesn’t mean forgetting — it means learning to live without demanding what once was.フクスイボンニカエラズ — “Spilled water does not return to the tray.” What’s done cannot be undone. I only hope that one day, remembering you will no longer hurt. I don’t want to live in the prison of memory. Faulkner wrote, “You cannot swim for new horizons until you have the courage to lose sight of the shore.” It becomes even harder because I know I will never feel the same way for anyone else.
You were beautiful like the moon — your eyes the ones I always longed for, though they were never mine. I used to fear being replaced in your heart. That was the truth I tried to deny, even when it stood before me. I was replaced long ago, but my heart refused to listen. I’ve tried countless times to convince it to move on. There’s nothing left but acceptance. Nizar Qabbani once confessed, “And I fear that my place gets taken by some other one, very lucky and not too shy, who flirts with your eyes while I’m the one who’s crazy about them.” I know that feeling — the madness of still caring when the story has long ended. One of the most difficult tasks in life is removing someone from your heart, even when I wish your hand could carry it.
But the truth is —
without you, I’m not okay.
Something is missing —
the biggest part,
the beautiful one,
the part that will always belong to you.
(Confession to the Moon)
Someone dear to me once said that different relationships fulfill different needs, and love for one doesn’t erase love for another. She said that people change, and feelings change, but that doesn’t make past love unreal. I wish I could believe that. Sharazad al-Khalij wrote, “The great pain is to love someone who doesn’t love you, and the greatest pain is to love someone who loves someone else.” I am at sixes and sevens — cloistered within myself. I exist in that in-between — half healed, half haunted. My thoughts still drift to you, more than anything else. You are the background of everything I do. You are the one I think of every time I have something to say. You are completely my alma gemela — and I don’t know how to forget you, because you once imparadised me.
You might wonder why I wrote and sent you these letters. Perhaps, by writing to you, I can heal. I don’t write to debate or reopen old wounds. I write to quiet the chaos in my mind. I don’t wait for your reply, and it’s okay if you never do. Even in silence, we still communicate. Give me a little time to find relief; once I feel lighter, I’ll stop placing words in your inbox. I just haven’t found another path. You were the line, the sentence, the rhythm every poet longs to write. Writing to you gives me a feeling I can’t describe — a feeling without a name. It reminds me that I once had something beautiful in my life. You’re no longer here, yet your presence still gives me strength to move forward. Life feels heavy, time moves fast, and you live forever in my heart.
kata-kata adalah daun
lebat merimbun.
datang musim
berdebu dan kering
bertiup angin
merembas segala
yang ringan tak bermakna.
yang tak terungkapkan
tinggal diam
dalam kata
terpendam segala.
Baha Zain
November 11, 2025
Male, Maldives